


Blind Luck

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Sensation Play, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: “You’re really kind of a freak, aren’t you?” Red notes, sounding distinctly perturbed.“Probably,” Papyrus agrees easily. Most of the tools were Chara’s ideas, of course, but Papyrus has learned to wield most of the proficiently so he really has no room to demur.Papyrus works on getting to know Red a little better, and figuring out how to navigate the complex nature of Red's triggers.





	Blind Luck

The Playroom is up on the third floor, well out of the way of any of the other staff, though more out of propriety than concern. The second floor is off-limits to anyone except Chara’s chosen attendants, and the third is almost completely abandoned these days, making it ideal for Papyrus to carve out a small space for himself filled with all the tools he might need to keep Chara entertained. Even though it exists mostly for their benefit, Chara doesn’t visit the room itself very often. They prefer to stay in their own bedroom and keep watch over the cameras.

“You could put me down,” Red mutters, to no avail, forced to cling reluctantly to Papyrus’s neck. “I can walk, y'know.”

“With legs as short as yours, it’d take all day,” Papyrus teases back, neatly dodging an elbow aimed at his head as he climbs the stairs and easily navigates through the empty passages to the door he’s looking for. Red’s face is set in a familiar scowl, but the way his phalanges are digging in to Papyrus’s nape betrays his nerves.

He shifts Red’s weight to his hip, jostling the little skeleton pointedly. “Hey. You’ll be fine. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Unexpectedly, Red blushes, looking down. “I know.”

It feels like a confession of sorts. Papyrus grins, using his now free hand to twist the handle, crossing the threshold and closing the door firmly behind him. The lights are on inside, which lets him know Chara must be awake and watching, to have prepared the room for them. He aims his smirk towards the discreet camera in the corner. It should be an interesting show.

He’s not oblivious to the way Red has gone completely stiff in his arms. The smaller skeleton takes moment to take in the room in full, and then profoundly announces, “Fuck.”

Papyrus laughs, finally setting Red down. He supposes at first glance, the room is intimidating. It was used for other, more violent activities before Chara’s interests had been redirected, and some of the paraphernalia have been re-purposed. The padded bench, for instance, with its leather straps and adjustable stand. He and Edge had spent a meaningful couple of hours there, at the beginning of their training, laying out the ground rules of good house behaviour. Not many of those lessons had stuck, however; he’ll have to repeat them again some time in the near future.

And then there’s the wall with its proudly exhibited array of implements. Papyrus doesn’t use some of the more heinous ones any more – the barbed whip, the meat cleaver – but to remove them from their designated holders would leave unseemly blank spaces in his collection. Besides, keeping them on display serves as a wordless warning to new trainees.

“Come on,” he says, moving past the more ominous apparatus towards the back of the room. There’s a much more mundane looking bed sitting against the back wall, so long as you overlook the elaborate padded headboard studded with rings at calculated intervals. Still, Red looks distinctly relieved, sticking close to Papyrus’s heel as if worried that straying too close to any of the other devices might spark undue interest.

“You’re really kind of a freak, aren’t you?” Red notes, sounding distinctly perturbed.

“Probably,” Papyrus agrees easily. Most of the tools were Chara’s ideas, of course, but Papyrus has learned to wield most of the proficiently so he really has no room to demur. “We’ll get to experiment later, once you’re a little better adjusted. For now, let’s keep things simple.”

He stands at the foot of the bed, considering, and then promptly picks Red up and lightly throws him back-first onto the mattress. The wide-eyed, startled expression Red gives him is almost adorable, and he lies still where he lands, compliant as ever.

“Stay,” Papyrus orders, probably unnecessary, before moving towards one of the nearby cupboards, considering his options. He’ll need gloves, definitely. Leather or latex? Leather has a more padded, organic texture, so that’s an easy choice. What else? Blindfold. Gag? Maybe later. He’ll need Red’s feedback just in case. What about toys? He spends a minute deliberating over different sizes. Red’s frame is small, but magical genitalia are usually more forgiving. He opts for something larger. He has a feeling Red’s probably used to it.

“This mattress sucks,” Red calls out, still flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling with an intensity that tells Papyrus he’s probably trying hard not to look elsewhere.

“We won’t be sleeping on it,” Papyrus says back, because even at his laziest, he definitely doesn’t let himself nap in here. He’s pretty sure he’d have nightmares about the early days.

Selections made, he comes back over to the bed, looking down at Red with a cheerful leer. Red avoids his gaze, hands fisting in the worn jacket he must have stolen from Sans’s wardrobe. “You…want me to take this off?”

“Nah,” Papyrus says, even though Blue’s probably going to give him hell about the laundry later. Red’s clothes probably won’t stay very clean. “Actually, we’ll look into getting you a few more layers. I think it’ll help.”

“M-maybe,” Red says, though Papyrus isn’t pleased that the stutter is back. He supposed that can’t be helped, though. Red is looking at Papyrus’s armful of goodies warily. “Then…should I-?”

“Shush,” Papyrus says, tapping Red on the teeth. “I said I’d take care of you. Just stay still.”

It’s an order Red seems to be having difficulty with. He fidgets, trying to find a place to rest his hands as Papyrus eases onto the bed and straddles Red’s waist. He’s careful to keep all their touching through clothing only, and though Red looks a little anxious and sweaty, there’s nothing of that pained, wretched look that suggests his soul is trying to manifest. Papyrus plans to keep it that way.

Papyrus holds up the blindfold. “We’re going to see how sensitive you are to the skeleton thing. Just react honestly.”

Red’s honest reaction to being blindfolded seems to be an uneasy whine. The blindfold is padded leather, broad enough to cover both of Red’s relatively large eye-sockets. Papyrus spends a moment making sure it’s tight enough not to shift, watching Red’s expression for any sign of trouble. “Anything you think I should know before we get started?”

Red’s fingers hook into the mattress in a frantic grip. He seems to struggle to articulate himself. “D-don’t touch-”

“Your soul shouldn’t come out, but I won’t touch it,” Papyrus agrees, pulling on the gloves, flexing his fingers until the soft leather creaks. “Anything else?”

Red’s uncertain expression makes him suspect no one’s ever actually asked his opinion before. “No…needles?”

Papyrus thinks that’s a bizarre request until he remembers all the strange pockmarks marring the ends of Red’s humeri. He frowns a little, glad that Red can’t see it. “Okay. Anything else?”

After a hesitant pause, Red shakes his head, either unable to come up with anything else on the spot, or simply unwilling to ask for it. Papyrus allows himself a soundless sigh.

“Right,” he says, trying to sound more upbeat. “Let’s see how you do.”

He’s had surprisingly few opportunities to explore Red’s body properly. Usually his soul comes out before Papyrus can make any serious headway, which limits the amount of touching he’s willing to expose Red to. There’s also the matter of Red’s scars. The Auction House provided a detailed examination which promised that Red isn’t nearly as fragile as he looks, but given that those documents hadn’t mentioned the soul issue, Papyrus isn’t sure how much faith he’s willing to put in them.

Then again, if Red’s trigger really was just the presence of other skeletons, maybe it had never been an issue before now. It would explain why that unique trait hadn’t been capitalised on during Red’s sale, and also how Red had lasted thus far in the hands of other human owners. Papyrus is sure not all of them would have left Red’s soul alone no matter how fervently he’d begged.

On the left side of Red’s chest, there’s a broad, pale scar running through three of his ribs in a straight line that looks a little newer than some of the others. Papyrus chooses to start there, wrapping his fingers around the middle rib and giving it a light tug. Red’s breath hitches, a rosy haze of magic colouring his cheekbones.

“Sensitive?” Papyrus asks, and Red gives a shaky nod. “Painful?”

This time Red shakes his head, so Papyrus presses down harder, expertly applying just enough pressure to make the bone flex slightly under his weight. A careful compression of the ribcage can feel good under the right circumstances, and from the way Red squirms he seems not to mind it much. There’s also no sign of sparking inside his chest cavity, so the gloves seem to be working.

His exploration of Red’s ribs is more clinical than sensual, to begin with. He makes a point of testing out all the scars, making sure there’s no hidden weaknesses he’ll need to be wary of. The only one that gives Red any trouble is a deep notch near where one of his ribs joins the spine. Red chokes on an inhale when Papyrus’s finger traces its crooked edge.

“Got that one when I was first captured,” Red offers unprompted. His teeth are bared in an almost vicious sneer, but his voice sounds oddly subdued, almost shy. “Only a human would be shitty enough to stab someone right in the fucking back, right? S'never had a chance to heal right.”

“Mmm,” Papyrus agrees, wondering if they have any of the healing gel Blue uses whenever he has a particularly bad break. Now that Red’s drawn attention to it, there’s a strange discrepancy in his scars. The older ones look deeper and more devastating, but also look as if they’ve been diligently treated and in most cases have recovered completely aside from the lingering, physical marks. The newer ones are shallower, but have left imperfections in the bones in cracks, chips and the mottled discolouration of a poor healing. “I think you’re lucky it didn’t kill you.”

“Bastard was trying,” Red admits, shifting to get comfortable again. “Guess I got lucky.”

It would have needed to be a near miracle, for Red to have survived on such low HP. Than again, maybe it had been higher before. Papyrus reaches in to Red’s ribcage, checking idly for the path the weapon might have taken through Red’s torso. He finds a matching notch on the underside of the sternum. “How long ago was that?”

“No idea,” Red says, sounding more uncomfortable, though Papyrus can’t tell if that’s just from the question or the way he’s delving into Red’s chest cavity. It’s something he seems to be more sensitive about, since it’s where his soul takes form. “S'not like anyone gave me a calendar to keep track.”

“Well, how many owners have you had since then?” Papyrus tries, more curious about the question than he cares to admit.

Red’s jaw clenches, his tone flat. “Dunno. Lost count.”

He hasn’t known Red long enough to have figured out all his tells, but Papyrus is pretty sure that’s a lie, and can’t help but wonder what prompted it. He shouldn’t reward such behaviour, but Red hasn’t voiced any complaints about the touching so far, and he’s been playing along with the distraction tactics readily enough. Papyrus shifts his focus, pressing down on Red’s spine in a long, slow, deep stroke, watching with interest as Red swallows down an unseemly sound and grips hard at the mattress. His caress trails down to Red’s pelvis, and he takes a moment to drag his fingers back over the peak of the the illiac the way he’d done earlier at the window. This time there’s no reaction except for the appreciable way the bones heat under his hands, warm enough that he can feel it through the gloves. Papyrus grins, and gently fondles the space between Red’s femurs. “Form your magic for me?”

Red grumbles slightly, flushing harder, but after a moment red magic coalesces below his pelvis in the smooth, soft shape of a vulva. Papyrus slides a finger along the folds and is pleased to find it already slightly slick. Even without his soul, Red’s body is more sensitive than most.

“I can feel you staring, perv,” Red grouses, instinctively moving a hand to cover himself. “Just. Get on with it.”

“Why? You got someplace to be?” Papyrus drawls, catching Red’s wrist, and then the second for good measure. He easily pins them down above Red’s skull, and simply holds him through the initial, reflexive struggle before the smaller skeleton manages to still himself.

Red hisses in frustration, looking more agitated than before, but to Papyrus’s surprise Red kicks out blindly and somehow manages to hook his ankle around Papyrus’s hip. A deft tug pulls Papyrus off-balance, dragging him down until he’s forced to brace himself or crush Red beneath his weight. Red’s hips undulate with surprising dexterity given his position, grinding their hips together competently enough to startle a groan out of Papyrus.

“Ha!” Red gloats, grinning fiercely behind the blindfold. “I knew you were just being a damn tease. So hurry up already.”

Papyrus looks down, and for the first time he can see an echo of that wicked, determined defiance to match the crimson magic that both Edge and Red share. Red’s channelling it differently, but in his own way he’s found the confidence to finally start testing the boundaries of Papyrus’s control.

Papyrus smirks, and answers the motions of Red’s hips with a sharp thrust of his own. Red flinches, his attempt to hold back a sound of his own less successful this time.

“Fine,” Papyrus allows, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure at the prospect of a challenge. He hadn’t thought he’d encounter that with Red. “Just remember, you asked for it.”


End file.
